


Just One Fix (to Keep Me in the Mix)

by CitrusVanille



Series: Video Killed the Radio Star [3]
Category: McFly
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Accidental sex tape, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Slash, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-27
Updated: 2008-10-27
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: He shouldn't do it. He knows he shouldn't. There is absolutely no way Tom can justify watching the video.





	Just One Fix (to Keep Me in the Mix)

He shouldn’t do it. He knows he shouldn’t. There is absolutely no way Tom can justify watching the video, even to himself – especially to himself. What he _should_ do is hit the delete button – wipe the entire thing. Instead, his finger hovers over ‘play’ and it’s taking all of his will-power not to just push down.

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, cursing his jeans. He’s almost painfully hard just from thinking about it – was half on-edge all through the show, couldn’t even look at Harry without getting tense and twitchy. He kind of hates himself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses at himself, doesn’t think he’s said much else all night, except for when he was on stage, but. “ _Fuck_ ,” and he hates himself just a little bit more as he lets his finger go, scrabbling one-handed to get his jeans open and down, arching up from the chair to rid himself of the rough cotton of the denim and the softer cotton of his boxers.

On the tiny screen the door swings open. “Fuck, Harry, are you –” Tom’s own voice – sounding vaguely tinny – asks, and then Harry’s turning around.

Tom’s got his free hand wrapped around his cock, jerking himself off fast and dirty, thumb sliding over the head, wrist twisting hard. He bites back a groan, eyes fixed to the screen, tightens his fingers, feels his breath stutter in his chest.

“Tom,” Harry’s voice sounds half-wrecked, and it’s not just the recording, Tom knows it’s not, heard it sound like that only a few hours ago, and it makes him shudder, groan. He’s having trouble holding the camera steady, and _fuck_ is Harry hot like that, getting himself off. Tom can see the sweat on Harry’s face – forehead, upper lip – the way it makes his shirt stick to his chest. He can see the way the muscles in Harry’s arm tense, flex, shiver, as his hand moves inside his jeans.

Tom speeds up, can’t help it, memory overlapping the video footage, and. He can’t handle the overload, has to squeeze his eyes shut, can still see Harry staring straight at him.

“Tom, Tom, please –” Harry’s voice gasps from the camera, and Tom comes a second before the video image does, hot and wet across his hand, Harry’s recorded voice cursing, making Tom shake harder.

“Fucking hell,” Tom’s own voice whispers, and then there’s the slam of the toilet door, louder than it should be for a recording, but Tom’s still coming down, can’t think why it –

“Fucking hell,” Harry’s voice echoes, and it’s like someone threw ice-cold water in Tom’s face. That’s not the camera.

Tom jerks, eyes flying open as the camera drops to the carpet with a muffled _thud_. Harry’s standing just inside the door, overnight bag at his feet, keycard bending in one hand from being gripped far too tightly.

“Oh, fuck,” Tom groans. This is so, so, so not good.


End file.
